Trent jerked at every strike of the looped belt’s soft leather on his bare buttocks as he was bent over the student desk in the shadowy classroom of the exclusive Flint Hall Boy’s Academy in Vermont. He hadn’t been told what infraction he was being punished for by Mr. Jamison now, but, in this stage of fourteen-year-old Trent’s relationship with his math’s tutor, it hardly mattered. They were far beyond the “infractions have their consequences” phase. Mr. Jamison did it now because it aroused him and gave him release. The two had gone beyond a solely corporal punishment relationship into one including sexual intimacy as well, consummated more than once in Mr. Jamison’s bedsitter at the academy.

A couple of more whacks to hear the boy quietly exclaim both his pain and his own arousal, the arousal being evident to the tutor who was holding and stroking the boy’s cock with one hand while striking his buttocks with the belt with the other, and Jamison dropped the belt on the worn wooden floor of the austere classroom. He went down on his knees behind the boy, bent over the desk, his hands gripping the far edge, and buried his face between the pert orbs of the boy’s buttocks. Trent writhed under the man’s attention, murmuring, “Yes, yes, yes,” as the teacher ate him out, opening him up and preparing him for mounting, and continued stroking the lad’s cock.

Still gripping the far edge of the student desk, Trent raised his torso, arching it back toward the teacher’s chest, and opened his mouth in a silent scream, he eyes flashing, as Jamison covered him from above and behind, penetrated, and began to pump.

Across the room, a door opened, the overhead lights flashed on, and a commanding voice boomed out, “What in the hell?!”

Mr. Jamison’s mistake was in not being able to hold off on his needs until he and Trent had retired to his bedsitter.

Four days later, the headmaster of the Flint Hall Boy’s Academy faced the famous movie actress, Gloria Arthur, and her most recent husband, a decade her junior, the not quite as famous movie actor, Victor Savage, across the desk in his office.

“The teacher, of course, has been dismissed, Ms. Arthur, but under the circumstances, there must be consequences for the boy as well. He insists that the tutor wasn’t taking advantage of him—that he was fully aware of what they were doing and welcomed the attention. I’m sure you would agree that we couldn’t have a young boy with those views living here among the other impressionable students.”

“I understand,” Gloria said. “It’s just so inconvenient. I’m about to leave for Prague to begin filming.”

Her younger husband of just two months spoke up. “I’m between movies, Gloria. I could find another school for Trent and perhaps, as the search goes on, I can spend some time with him—taking him skiing or something. He just needs to have his attention and the direction he’s going in diverted, I think. Boys are so impressionable at that age. It would give us an opportunity to build a relationship. We haven’t seen each other more than a couple of times.”

“Oh, would you take that on, Vic?” Gloria said, flashing her younger boy toy a famous coquettish smile. “That would be so relieving. I’m having a dastardly time learning my lines for this new movie without having to deal with the consequences of Trent’s latest cry for attention. I’m sure that’s all this is. He does have a vivid imagination—so creative. It’s in the genes.”

The ski resort Vic took Trent to was a very exclusive one, off Bottom Lift 7 road above the Eagle’s Nest complex in Vail, Colorado. Few knew of the existence of this ski resort, which included a ski instructor and a series of private ski runs in the mountains to serve a lodge with only a dozen rooms for guests, all male of varying ages but of similar appetites. All of them were filthy rich, of course, in pursuit of exotic pleasures. Few of the guests in residence at any one time were there to ski and even those who were were there to indulge other entertainment interests as well.

“There are other boys of your age here, too, Trent,” Victor said as they arrived and Trent had noticed that this was true of the bellhop who had taken their luggage from Vic’s Jaguar. “Most of the room boys and waiters here are fourteen, just as you are. They are here in training. Watch them carefully and how they interact with the guests. This is a lesson for you in consequences. If you aren’t careful, you could wind up like this.”

Vic didn’t specify what they were in training for. It wasn’t long before Trent got the message. They hadn’t been there very long, and Trent was in the lounge, with its towering stone chimney and walls of glass overlooking the mountains and ski slopes. He was listening to the boys fussing around in the adjacent dining room, with its single table sitting twenty, preparing for lunch, when he heard a yelp come from the bedroom corridor going straight back from the lounge. He got in position to look down the hall in time to see a large, middle-aged man slap one of the fourteen-year-old room boys, sending the lad to a heap on the floor, and then picking him up, slinging him over a shoulder, and carrying him into one of the guest rooms.

Trent understood that this brutality and vulnerability was the consequences lesson Victor wanted to provide him by bringing him here, but it didn’t have the effect that he thought Victor intended it to. It made Trent go all tingly and aroused. He crept down the hall, to the door the man had entered with the boy. The door hadn’t been fully closed, and Trent stood there in the hall, peeking through he slit in the door, while the man crouched between the now-naked boy’s thighs as the boy lay on his back on the bed and the man fucked him while controlling his breathing with hands choking his throat.

There were ten of them at the lunch table, including Fritz, the French ski instructor, who sat across the table from Trent and exchanged interested smiles with the boy. Neither the man Trent had seen fucking the room boy in his room or the boy himself were there. Undoubtedly, Trent thought, the man was making an afternoon of his pleasure with the boy. Trent shivered at the thought of that—quite probably not with the effect his step-father wished to have on him.

A muscular, sandy-haired man name Efron was sitting to Trent’s right, with Victor on Trent’s left. The guest to his right was being solicitous of Trent and working hard to find topics they both would enjoy discussing. In addition to Efron, Victor, and Trent, there were five other male guests ranging in age from the low thirties to sixty. Two of the older guests had cajoled one of the fourteen-year-old waiters to sit between them at the table, and no one on the serving staff raised an objection.

During dessert, the two men had left the table, taking the young waiter with them, and withdrawn down the bedroom corridor.

“I hope,” Victor said, turning a pointed look at Trent, “that you understand the unfortunate position that boy has put himself in.”

“Yes, sir,” Trent answered, feeling that tingling sensation rising in him again and disappointed that there didn’t seem to be any chance he could leave the table and go back to the guest room area to watch what two older men would do with the waiter. Victor had signed Trent up for a skiing lesson with the ski instructor, Fritz, for the afternoon.

“This is the consequence of letting older men take liberties,” Victor said.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Trent said. He understood very well. Everyone seemed to think that the math’s tutor was the only man who had been fucking him—or that the math’s teacher had had to seduce Trent into doing something he didn’t want to do.

Trent wasn’t a great skier already, but he wasn’t a novice skier, either, which had surprised and gladdened the French ski instructor. It meant they could take to the easier ski trails immediately and not stay close to the lodge and spend the afternoon just going over the fundamentals.

They didn’t do much skiing. There was a rest hut three-quarters of the way down the second ski run they took. No one else had been on the run when they went down. The ski hut had a bathroom and a small room with a heater and a deep shelf along one knotty pine-paneled wall, where one could shelve their bulky sky clothes while using the bathroom.

Fritz and Trent used the heater because Trent was naked as he was perched on the shelf with his ski clothes gathered around him, wearing just his ski boots and a wool hat, while he suffered the consequences of his promiscuity and the daring smiles he had exchanged with Fritz across the table at lunch. His booted ankles were resting on Fritz’s shoulders, as the completely clothed Frenchman, other that his cock projecting out of his open fly, held on tight to the boy’s waist and fucked the boy vigorously in his rolled up ass.

After a third run at the mountain on another of the easier ski runs, the two satiated skiers returned to the lodge as the afternoon was growing darker. They returned perhaps a tad bit earlier than Victor had anticipated, because when Trent got to his room, humming happily to himself, to take a shower and prepared for dinner, he found the door to his step-father’s adjoining bedroom to be slightly ajar. Victor was on top of the room boy Trent had watched being fucked by a guest earlier in the day. Victor was fucking the boy in the same position the man had done so earlier.